hurricane in my head

walked into the george r. brown convention center today to volunteer for all of 2 hours (my goodness, i'm such a saint) sorting clothes into piles and walked into the wrong part of the center. saw the beds lined up in rows upon rows, wall to massive concrete wall, and the shower schedule posted on an obliging pillar. the pink group showers at 10am, the green group showers at 11am, and so on.
begin to sort clothes. begin to label. a man wearing the official yellow plastic jacket calls out, "all volunteers who can hear me, please come here! all volunteers who can hear me, please come here! we have 6 more trucks of water coming in. as you can see, we are out of space. we need to scootch all of this," hand waving expansively at the literal wall of clothing covering the floor, "over there. scootching...is...is exactly what you think it is! let's focus people!"
"you can just walk in," said the man beside me,"they'll put you to work."

i felt so high school, so "i'm doing this with my friends, " so let me get a call on my cell phone while i move piles of clothes around, so temporary. i park my car; i walk in; i get a nametag. i work for 2 hours. now, i'm going dancing. i'm going, but it seems wrong somehow.